And now
by QuestionableSexual
Summary: And now you're living in New York. You're singing part time. Maybe you're making it. You trying to keep busy, but now she's on your mind. One-shot set alongside "Comfortable" by John Mayer. Santana POV. Brittana


A/N: Please listen to "Comfortable" by John Mayer while reading.

* * *

You push the door in and it swings back and hits the wall. S_hit_, if Rachel or Kurt heard they are going to come bitch you out and you are not in the mood. You pause in the doorway, but when you don't hear Rachel's shrill and exasperated "Santanaaa" or Kurt's designer footfalls, you sigh in relief. Kicking the door shut you drop your duffel on the couch and head into your "room". Privacy screens and curtains can only do so much. But it's yours and it's in New York , so it can't be too bad. You throw yourself down on your mattress on the floor. You still smell like burgers from the diner you work at during the day, but fuck it. A ten hour shift and _dumb bitches_ who don't know the meaning of tipping means you just want to lay here forever. After staring at the ceiling for who knows how long, you turn on your side and pull the blanket tight around you. You're facing the wall where a few of your pictures hang. You're not normally that sentimental but Kurt and Rachel insisted you needed to make the space "yours". You have to admit, it's nice sometimes. Your parents smile back at you. You and Quinn on the field yelling at the other Cheerios doing push-ups. The Glee club radiating joy around the Nationals trophy. Brittany is holding you from behind in that picture. You wonder if you're smiling more because of that or the nationals win. You don't have to wonder too hard. It was hard to limit the pictures you added of your…_best friend._ She was such a huge part of your Lima days, so you pick a few of your favorites. Blue eyes and signature pout glare at you from the wall. A mountain of toilet paper and paper towels and a pissed of grocery clerk make up the blurry background. You can't help but smile just as wide as you did when it was taken.

_**I just remembered that time at the market…**_

"_Sannn, I'm bored," Brittany whines, bouncing on the couch, rousing your from half-sleep. You peek at her from under the arm slung across your eyes. She's looking at you like you have some magical answer. You chuckle and grab her hand, kissing her fingers._

"_I dunno Britt-Britt, why don't we just watch a movie or something?" You're happy just to lay here and soak in your girlfriend's presence, but Brittany is Brittany. She always needs to be moving, thinking, doing, focused on one thing or the next. You love her for it._

_ "Harry Potter!" she cheers, but you groan. She's been watching it over and over hoping Voldemort wins, you don't bother explaining. You know she knows it won't change, but you also know she sees the good in everyone. Even a dark lord._

_ "Again? I'm tired of watching Emma Watson make out with that stupid ginger kid. She is WAY too hot for him." Before Brittany can protest, her mom swoops in from the kitchen. She has Brittany's same blonde hair and long legs. You're not a creep or anything, it's just good to know Brittany will still be smokin' when you get older._

_ "You girls have been wearing a hole in the couch all weekend. If you're that bored you can run some errands for me. I'll get you the grocery list." Brittany starts to say something, but her mom cuts her off," None of that, Brittbee, you need to get out, and poor Santana does not need to watch that Harry Potter again." Brittany huffs and jumps up to go get her shoes._

_ "Thanks Mrs. P," You smile. She winks at you._

"_You're welcome, dear, I know how much you indulge that girl," she heads into the kitchen, but pokes her head back in the living room. "But no extra ice cream!" You duck you head to avoid meeting her eyes and to hide the blush on your cheeks. You've only done that a time or five._

"_Baking powder and baking soda are the same thing, right?" __Your__ mom never has grocery lists this complicated. Your mom also hired a maid who cooks most of the meals._

_ "Well, they both having baking in the name" Brittany reasons. You smile at her and chuck the orange box into the cart with a shrug. You're actually really enjoying shopping with Brittany. You push the cart and Britt reads the list. Even though you're pretty sure Mrs. Piece didn't have three boxes of Lucky Charms on there. Who are you to deny a pretty girl her marshmellowy breakfast fix?_

"_Paper towels" Brittany reads._

"_Alright, aisle five." Brittany frowns. "What is it, Britt?"_

"_That aisle is crooked." You give her a confused look "It is! See, I'll show you" Before you can disagree she jumps on your cart and wheels herself down the aisle. You don't know whether the aisle really __is __crooked or if the cart just has a janky wheel, but she was beginning to pull to the right. Brittany looks back and you, grinning, but before she can gloat, the cart takes a hard right and careens into the shelves._

"_BRITTANY!" your heart leaps into your throat and you rush over as the avalanche of paper products rains down. Panic shoots through you, but then you hear giggling. You kneel down and push aside the paper towels. You grab Brittany's hand and pull her to her feet. You look around at the chaos and burst into laughter. You can't stop when several employees rush over to scold you both, or when Brittany begins to pout. You manage to hold your phone steady long enough to snap a picture. You laugh as the manager suggests you leave and all the way back into your car. Two hours from when you arrived you pull out of the shopping center, with not a single grocery item to speak of._

_**Can't remember what went wrong last September…**_

But those days are long gone now. You close your eyes and turn the other way. You scoot back until you're pressed against the wall. No matter how long it's been, you can't make yourself forget how it feels to fall asleep as Brittany's little spoon. Her breath in your hair and her hand twitching in sleep against your stomach. You've woken up enough times with her name on your lips to know that you need the cold brick against your back to save you from those painful delusions. Exhaustion really is the best drug, and soon you're in the blissful oblivion sleep brings.

_**I sleep with this new girl I'm still getting used to…**_

You laugh at Kurt as he relays the travesty that is his office mate's new wardrobe. You're sitting around the table at one of your favorite dives with Kurt, Rachel and a few NYADA kids. You feel a hand on your shoulder and a girl settles down in the seat to your left.

"Hi everyone, sorry I'm late!" She kisses your cheek and hooks her purse on the back of her chair.

"Its fine, Delaney, we haven't even ordered our drinks yet," Rachel smiles at your girlfriend, but not before shooting a glare across the room at the new, and inept, waiter. You met Delaney through Rachel. She was painting sets for a show Rachel was performing in. Rachel invited her to the bar you sing at a few nights a week. Afterward you both had a few drinks, she flirted with you, you had a few more drinks and flirted back. You agreed to a date because Delaney was cute and Rachel wouldn't stop winking at you. _Ugh, so creepy. _A month and a few more dates later and you were exclusive. She makes you laugh. She has green eyes and brown hair, so there's no danger in _mistaking _her (or more accurately pretending she is) someone else. She's only an inch taller than you, and it's nice to be able to kiss without craning your neck up. Or so you tell yourself.

Finally your food comes after a few more glares from Rachel. Delaney's right elbow bumps into your left when you pick up your silverware.

"Oops, sorry lefty!"Laney nudges your shoulder and you smile at her, but you can't help but remember how a certain someone _always_ sat on your right and would grab your right hand in her left under the table.

_**My friends all approve say 'she's gonna be good for you'…**_

Everyone pays and makes their way out of the restaurant. The NYADA kids wave their goodbyes and you, Rachel, Kurt, and Laney circle up on the sidewalk.

"Sooo, we'll see you two tomorrow..?" Kurt ventures. They both love Lanely. She's smart and funny. She can make small talk with anyone, she's always polite. You really do like her too. She is a good girlfriend, she loves art, but she's pre-med at Columbia. She buys you flowers sometimes just because. You go on picnics in Central Park. You have pretty good sex.

"Yeah, see you then," Kurt and Rachel walk off, but not without Rachel throwing you a creepy wink. You have got to talk to that girl about her and this winking business. Laney grabs your hand and pulls you into her.

"Hey."

"Hi." You kiss her lightly on the lips. Sometimes you still get this stupid twinge in your stomach, like you're doing something wrong, like you're cheating, you push it aside.

The last time you went to Lima, four months ago for graduation, you snuck off and got drunk in the backseat of Rachel's car. It wasn't smart. Last time you got drunk in Lima, you got a little _too_ cozy with Quinn. Kurt and Rachel promptly sat you down and gave you some tough love.

"_You need to move on, Santana."_

"_Brittany's parents enrolled her in community college here, she's not leaving Lima."_

"_You're in New York now, think of the opportunities."_

"_You have room to grow now, Santana, Brittany knew you were bigger than this, that's why she let you go." _

That last one hurt the most. You told them they were right and you would start looking out for yourself. You didn't tell them how you wanted Brittany to be proud of you, but you hoped, you still do. Maybe she is.

Rachel and Kurt were ecstatic when you told them you and Delaney were "official". You weren't smiling with your eyes. To your surprise Kurt questioned you about it later when the two of you were alone.

"_She's pretty, smart, we like the same music, she good in bed," you tell him, "I can't see anything wrong with her."_

"_First, ew, and second, why are you looking?" You didn't have an answer._

_**Your mouth was, so dirty….**_

Sex is different with Laney. You were worried it would be awkward the first time, but it wasn't. You were worried it would be too passionate, but it wasn't. Back at her apartment, you're getting to that point, topless, hands roaming, heavy breathing. Laney stops her ministrations and hovers above you; her hands slide your pants and panties down.

"Santana…can I?" You know what she's asking, that step you haven't been able to take yet. Your breath catches in your throat. You shake your head.

"Laney, let's just...do this. I like this," she looks a little disappointed, but kisses you firmly.

"Okay, honey, not until you're ready." You sigh in relief and pull her back down to you.

_ It was sweltering in the fort Brittany had insisted you make in the living room for your sleepover. The heat only amplified by her lips on your neck. The only light, some rom-com flickering on the TV at one end of the fort. You don't know if the volume is on, all you can hear is Brittany's breath in your ear as she leans back and pulls your shirt over your head. You return the favor and immediately pull her body down on top of you. Your bare chest slides against hers, your sweat melding, skin jumping every time you brush against each other. Her mouth is on yours, your kissing is wet, hot, heat. If you could think of anything besides her skin at that moment, you would be praying her parents were heavy sleepers, because your kissing is loud and Brittany's tongue is pulling small moans from the back of your throat. Her hands are wrapped under your arms, around your shoulders, fingers sliding through your hair against her scalp. You push your hands down her bare back and feel her arch with your touch. She hums in your mouth when you slip beneath the band of her shorts and press your hands down and grab her ass for all you're worth. Her hips cant down into yours, and your body automatically rises to meet her. She pulls back and kisses down your neck, nibbling your collar bone and making you twitch. She smiles up at you, eyes glinting in mirth and lust, she knows you're ticklish there. Past your breasts and down to your belly button, you run your hands along her arms. She leans down and kisses you __**there**__ over your pajama pants and sits back on her knees. She looks at you, she's not asking you a question, she's making you a promise. She's going to love you tonight, right now. You just gaze back at her because you know you aren't going to protest. As she hooks her fingers around your waist band, you begin to tremble. You've never done this before. And you know it's different. Your body is humming with fear and lust and…love, a love you didn't know you were capable of receiving. Brittany smiles to reassure you, but when she places her hand on your stomach you can feel her trembling too._

_ And it's okay. You're finding your way together, in this unknown._

_ Brittany slides between your legs, the sight of her blonde hair spilling across your thighs burns itself into your memory and through your body. You feel her breath, cool because you are so very hot. One arm wraps around your thigh, the other slides into your hand and twines your fingers together. You're breathing heavily, your heart is beating its way out of your chest, and every inch of your skin is covered in sweat and goose bumps, but you feel yourself squeeze her hand in affirmation. She starts with the softest of kisses. Like a first kiss she is sweet and gentle and opens her mouth a little each time, moving deeper into and onto you. You never knew it would be like this, your hips turn up into her eager mouth. Her mouth is so hot and soft on you. Her tongue wider and both more and less dexterous than hands ever could be. She dips inside you and you gasp her name. Her hand on your thigh grasps roughly. She's the warmth around you and in you. You're muscles are twisted so tight, and this feeling of her, it's so intense you don't know how much more you can stand. She tastes and melds you, not just your body, but __**you**__, she's stringing together every bit of flesh, every sinew, every cell, every drop of blood, and making them hum in unison. Whatever is in her has reached through her and has wound itself around whatever is in you and is thrumming harder and louder with every stroke. Your breath is fast and shallow, your heart beat can't keep up with the rush of blood, you don't know if you're going numb or waking up, but light bursts behind your eyes, and you've bitten your lip so hard you taste blood. Your hands are in her hair, drawing her up to you. She lies on top of you pressing you down into the blankets. You feel her muscles quiver in exhaustion with yours. Her mouth is on yours, just open and still. You taste her, her lips, inside her cheeks, under her tongue. It's salty and tangy and her all at once. She slides next to you, but still touching you, because you are connected still, by some force, you feel her every movement and every breath in your chest. Your hearts beat in sync. You slide a hand across her stomach._

_ "I was with you, San. Together," she pulls your hand around her hip and across her back instead. "Everything you felt, I could feel through you."_

_**Life of the party and she swears that she's artsy…**_

You're at a gallery showing that one of Laney's friends is showing in. Art was never really your thing. Especially the modern abstract kind. You're staring at a circle on the floor with a video loop of an eye blinking projected from above. Its actually freaking you out a little bit, you look at the plate on the wall: "Tension". Well, it doesn't say "creepy as fuck", but its an apt enough title. You spy Laney across the room, chatting and laughing with a group around some large installation piece, you think it's a boat. She doesn't look over. She doesn't realize you're watching her. It's odd to you. You and Laney are just two people. You have two lives. Those lives overlap occasionally. If someone were to ask you about yourself you'd tell them you're a singer, you write songs sometimes. You're gay, but don't expect to be caught sporting flannel any time soon. You're from Lima, Ohio, you love New York like a fat kid loves cake. You wouldn't mention that you had a girlfriend any more than you'd mention how many times you brushed your teeth that day. Having a girlfriend isn't who you are, it's just a part of your life. A small part, if you're being honest. You walk to the bar and grab another glass of wine. Is this what it's like for most people? You find someone who doesn't bother you too much and you live a life side by side, occasionally merging when it benefits you both? You don't know, you don't care. You know there can be something different, something better. You had it. Once upon a time.

A piece centered around an elapsed time photo catches your eye. It's a dancer, spinning in a perfect pirouette. Her body blurred in motion, but face and eyes crisp and clear and staring into the camera.

_ "Well, artists have a little…leeway…in the scholarly sense. They just think differently," Rachel is trying to make Finn feel better about being stupid, you guess, but even the man-child look skeptical. "I mean take Brittany, for example, she's an amazing artist, but-" You know she is not about to insinuate something about your girl._

_ "Hold it right there, Man-Hands-"_

_ "I'm not an artist." Everyone looks at Brittany as she make her quiet assertion. "Art is boring and slow. I'm fast, I move. Art is too slow to keep up with me."_

You take a picture of the dancer picture and text it to Brittany. You wonder if she'll remember the conversation. Even if she does, you wonder if she'll care.

_**She thinks I can't see the smile that she's faking…**_

Laney holds the door open to the cab and you slide in. She tells the driver your address and he pulls away from the curb.

"Thanks for bringing me, Lane," you smile at her halfheartedly. She reaches up and tugs on a strand of your hair.

"I know you were bored out of you mind. Art isn't really your thing is it?" You look down and shake your head. "It's alright. I understand. Santana, I…" She grabs your hand and nervously plays with your fingers. She smiles at you, but it's hollow and her eyes say what you already feel.

"It's not really supposed to be like this is it?" you offer. Delaney bites her lip and after a moment slowly shakes her head. She is beautiful, her green cocktail dress complements her eyes. Her chestnut hair twisted in a fancy braid. She's everything you should want. But everything in you knows you don't.

"I do like you. But I know we are never going to have that connection. I know you know." You nod. You both sit in silence until the cab pulls up in front of your flat. You pay your share, and lean back in the window to kiss Delaney's cheek.

"I'll see you around…as friends?"

"As friends," She agrees. You wave goodbye and unlock the lobby door. You didn't know it was possible to feel so right and so hopeless at the same time.

* * *

You're walking home from the diner, where you work less and less since the manager of a jazz bar asked you to come sing some afternoons, when you see a couple performing on the street. The man, with long dreadlocks, taps out a rhythm on a five-gallon bucket and a woman in a flowing skirt dances with the beat around him. You stop and watch for a moment, before throwing a few dollars in the upturned bucket on their side. You like that kind of dancing, not choreographed, just open, just happening. You've watched a lot of dancing and you know when a dancer is moving with the music, or when she's letting the music move her.

_**I loved you, grey sweatpants, no make-up, so perfect...**_

_ You sit on the edge of the stage kicking your feet. Brittany is doing her best to teach the boys their moves for Regionals. You think its kind of hopeless. But she never gives up, never stops encouraging them, showing them the same move over and over, until she's danced the whole thing ten times to their once. _

_ "Brittany, I'm just not going to get this. I'm going home," Finn grabs his book bag and storms off the stage. You roll your eyes at him, what a fucking baby. The other guys shrug at Brittany, giving halfhearted apologies as they trickle out of the auditorium. You spin around to look at Brittany. She's breathing heavily and frowning. _

_ "Britt…" She doesn't wait to hear what you have to say and walks backstage and turns on some song you don't know. Then she's back on stage, dancing like she hadn't just spent the past hour and a half working her ass off. You can only stare. You're no slouch when it comes to busting a move, give you a song, some choreography and you can nail it. But Brittany is just in tune with the beat. It's like the music is born in her hips and comes to life in her feet. She doesn't need any choreography to translate for her, dance is her native language. You couldn't count the number of times her mother has flipped through Brittany's baby pictures with you, saying how Brittany was dancing before she was talking. _

_ You listen to the beat and enjoy the moment. Brittany is doing some kind of hip-hop and ballet mash-up, one second executing a perfect series of pirouettes before falling into the chaos of freestlye. The music ends and Brittany slides to a stop not too far from you. You smile at her and clap a little, but she just giggles and rolls her eyes. She lays down on the stage in front of you, finally letting all the exercise catch up with her. Her tank top is dark across her chest and stomach with sweat. One leg of her sweatpants is rolled up to her knee, but the other has come undone and brushes the top of her worn sneakers. Her hair is wet against her scalp and pieces have escaped from her bun to lay plastered against her forehead and the back of her neck. You can smell her sweat mixing with the deodorant she actually remembered to wear today. You're watching her breathe, and tracing her curves and dips with your eyes. You know you're staring, but you just can't help yourself. Since when have you been dating a super model? You can't seem to wrap your mind around just how beautiful she is. Brittany places her hand on your knee and you lean down and kiss her cheek._

"_Eww, you're salty," You wrinkle your nose, but she just laughs. Her eyes twinkle mischievously and she pushes herself up and onto your lap and begins tickling you. "Noooooo," you choke out between laughs. She just laughs back and pins you down with her weight. She's getting her sweat all over you and giving you hiccups, and you still can't see anything but perfection._

_**Our love was comfortable and so broken in…**_

It's a quarter past three and you have to be at the jazz club by five. You know the owner loves you, and you've already sang there a few times. But this isn't some grubby college bar, this is the real deal. A club where businessmen and women go. People with money and power. A place where, you hope, things will really start to happen for you. So, your two hours of singing tonight has butterflies dancing inside you. Kurt and Rachel have been to watch you every time so far, but tonight they are at auditions, so you're on your own. They always make you kind of nervous though, not like when.._someone else_…would watch you sing. That just made you feel whole. You sigh, but still catch yourself grinning in the mirror, it may just be a little spark, but this could really be what ignites your career.

You're halfway through curling your hair when you hear someone knocking on the door. If it's that sack of meat, Brody, you are going to kick his ass for losing his key. Or maybe turn the AC down really low, so when he's walking around the apartment flashing his man bits… You're still lost in thought when you pull the door open. It's not Brody. It's the last person you ever expected to show up on your doorstep. Shy blue eyes look back at you. She's wearing a book bag and holding a duffel, with a suitcase next to her. Not even Brittany can bring that much for a weekend trip. Every feeling you thought your heart had finally sapped itself of comes rushing back. Nothing was gone, just dormant, just waiting for this moment to see her face at your door and awaken, full force. You stumble over your words, but ask her why she's here. She drops your gaze for a moment, and when she looks back at you her eyes are beginning to fill with tears. She drops her things and reaches for you and you are reaching back. Finally you are at home, with her arms around you, and with just four whispered words from her, you feel like your life really is coming together.

_**I want you back…**_


End file.
